June is a month of roses and roses are flowers of beauty, romance and love

‘If a June night could talk, it would probably boast it invented romance.’- Bern Williams 

'Be in love with life and the living and the world will be a better place.'- Kamran Mofid

 

Photo: RioRoses

"The month of June is probably named after Juno, the wife of Jupiter, and queen of the gods [Hera in Greek mythology]. It was held sacred to her, and was thought by the Romans to be the luckiest month for marriage, since Juno was the Goddess of Marriage. Wherever the goddess went she was attended by her messenger Iris (the Rainbow), who journeyed so quickly through the air that she was seldom seen, but after she had passed there was often left in the sky the radiant trail of her highly-coloured robe.  Juno is always represented as a tall, beautiful woman, wearing a crown and bearing a sceptre in her hand, and often she is shown with a peacock at her side, since that bird was sacred to her. 

A story is told of one of her servants, Argus, who had a hundred eyes, only a few of which he closed at a time. Juno set him to watch over a cow which Jupiter wished to steal, for it was really a beautiful girl named Io, whom Jupiter had transformed. Mercury was sent by Jupiter to carry off Io, and by telling long and wearisome stories to Argus at last succeeded in lulling him into so deep a sleep that he closed all his eyes. The god then seized Argus's own sword and cut off his head.  Juno was very sad at the loss of her servant, and gathering up his hundred eyes scattered them over the tail of the peacock, her favourite bird."- Excerpts from Stories of the Months and Days 

  

Illustration by Charles Lefebvre (Circa 1883)

A Red Red Rose by Robert Burns

'My luve is like a red red rose

That's newly sprung in june;

O my Luve's like the melodie

That's sweetly play'd in tune;

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,

So deep in luve am I;

And I will luve thee still, my dear,

Till a' the seas gang dry;

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,

And the rocks melt wi' the sun;

I will luve thee still, my dear,

While the sands o' life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only Luve

And fare thee weel, a while!

And I will come again, my Luve,

Tho' it were ten thousand mile.'

Historically, June has always been the most popular month for weddings.

'For they say when you marry in June, you’re a bride all your life.'

Photo: ElisianaFlorist

The Poet's Calendar (JUNE) by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

'Mine is the Month of Roses; yes, and mine

The Month of Marriages! All pleasant sights

And scents, the fragrance of the blossoming vine,

The foliage of the valleys and the heights.

Mine are the longest days, the loveliest nights;

The mower's scythe makes music to my ear;

I am the mother of all dear delights;

I am the fairest daughter of the year.' 

June: Les Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry, French Medieval Book of Hours, 1412

All In June by William Henry Davies

‘A week ago I had a fire

To warm my feet, my hands and face;

Cold winds, that never make a friend,

Crept in and out of every place.

Today the fields are rich in grass,

And buttercups in thousands grow;

I'll show the world where I have been--

With gold-dust seen on either shoe.

Till to my garden back I come,

Where bumble-bees for hours and hours

Sit on their soft, fat, velvet bums,

To wriggle out of hollow flowers.’

Illustration by Jacquie Lawson 

'JUNE’ BY LOTTIE BROWN ALLEN

‘Oh what is more sweet than the month of June

When our senses thrill and our hearts keep tune

To the song of the birds and the rose in bloom?

Oh what is more joy than the early gray

Of the dewy morn and the sun’s first ray

That herald the dawn of a perfect day?

Oh what is more fair as the sun climbs high

Than the azure hue of the summer sky

And the snow-white clouds drifting idly by?

Oh what is more pure than the summer air

That wafts from the woodlands and gardens fair

A fragrance and perfume so rich and rare?

Oh what is more dear than the twilight hour

When the daylight fades and each nodding flower

Is kissed by the moonbeams’ mystic power?

O, Summer Queen! you are gone too soon

With your sunny days and your shining moon,

With your golden grain and your wealth of bloom.

And if we could hold in some magic way

To your trailing robes for a single day,

Dear month of June, we would bid you stay.'

Illustration by John William Waterhouse , Ophelia [by the pond] — 1894

Eternal Summer by William Shakespeare

‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm'd;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;

Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:

 So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

 So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.’

Loch Duich, Summer Moonlight is a painting by William Turner

Moonlight, Summer Moonlight by Emily Jane Brontë

’Tis moonlight, summer moonlight,

All soft and still and fair;

The solemn hour of midnight

Breathes sweet thoughts everywhere,

But most where trees are sending

Their breezy boughs on high,

Or stooping low are lending

A shelter from the sky.

And there in those wild bowers

A lovely form is laid;

Green grass and dew-steeped flowers

Wave gently round her head.’  

Photo: Kamran Mofid, our garden, Coventry, June 2020

‘THE APPROACH OF JUNE, OR THE MONTH OF ROSES’ BY ELIZA AND SARA WOLCOTT

‘Tis blushing on through brier and thorn,

The wintry winds are still;

Now softer zephyrs waft along,

The month of June to fill.

Soft dews descend upon the flowers

And kindly rest awhile;

‘Tis sweet to wait upon these hours,

To see the roses smile.

How beautiful the charming scene,

‘Tis far surpassing art,

Like purity in heavenly mien,

Reviving to the heart.

Sweet exhalations fill the air,

While music in the grove,

Invites my pensive soul to share

In all the songs of love.

Put off thy wintry robe my soul,

Born to rejoice and sing,

Let gratitude thy lips control

In praises to your king.

The soul with innocence possess’d,

Her incense safe may bear

To Christ, whose righteousness hath bless’d

The humblest form of prayer.

Thus while the roses greet our eyes,

In all their rich perfume,

Should our prayers like incense rise,

Our summer to illume.’

Photo: BBC

To the Cuckoo by William Wordsworth

‘O blithe New-comer! I have heard,

I hear thee and rejoice.

O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird,

Or but a wandering Voice?

While I am lying on the grass

Thy twofold shout I hear;

From hill to hill it seems to pass,

At once far off, and near.

Though babbling only to the Vale

Of sunshine and of flowers,

Thou bringest unto me a tale

Of visionary hours.

Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring!

Even yet thou art to me

No bird, but an invisible thing,

A voice, a mystery;

The same whom in my school-boy days

I listened to; that Cry

Which made me look a thousand ways

In bush, and tree, and sky.

To seek thee did I often rove

Through woods and on the green;

And thou wert still a hope, a love;

Still longed for, never seen.

And I can listen to thee yet;

Can lie upon the plain

And listen, till I do beget

That golden time again.

O blessèd Bird! the earth we pace

Again appears to be

An unsubstantial, faery place;

That is fit home for Thee!’

What a Joy to be in a Garden in June

BARNSDALE GARDENS in SUMMER, An original painting by CHARRON PUGSLEY-HILL

'Kind hearts are the gardens;

kind thoughts are the roots;

kind words are the flowers;

kind deeds are the fruits.'- English Proverb

The Garden by Andrew Marvell

…’What wond’rous life in this I lead!

Ripe apples drop about my head;

The luscious clusters of the vine

Upon my mouth do crush their wine;

The nectarine and curious peach

Into my hands themselves do reach;

Stumbling on melons as I pass,

Ensnar’d with flow’rs, I fall on grass.

Meanwhile the mind, from pleasure less,

Withdraws into its happiness;

The mind, that ocean where each kind

Does straight its own resemblance find,

Yet it creates, transcending these,

Far other worlds, and other seas;

Annihilating all that’s made

To a green thought in a green shade.

Here at the fountain’s sliding foot,

Or at some fruit tree’s mossy root,

Casting the body’s vest aside,

My soul into the boughs does glide;

There like a bird it sits and sings,

Then whets, and combs its silver wings;

And, till prepar’d for longer flight,

Waves in its plumes the various light…’The Garden

A Selection of Related postings from our archive

Photo: Kamran Mofid, our garden, Coventry, June 2020

Celebrating the joyous Spring with Hopkins and Wordsworth

Finding sanctuary in poetry during lockdown 

Reflecting on Life: My Childhood in Iran where the love of poetry was instilled in me 

Poetry is the Education that Nourishes the Heart and Nurtures the Soul 

GCGI Celebrates the World Poetry Day

My Poem of the month (January) and our New Year’s Greetings 

My Poem of the month (February): Let Hope and Healing Begin to Brighten the Covid Darkness

My Poem of the month (March): Look with joy on what is past and Look with hope on what is yet to come

My poem of the Month: Springing back in April with a Renewed Sense of Hope and Optimism

My Poem of the Month: A Celebration of this Sweet and Merry Month of May

My Poem of the month (October): MORḠ-E SAḤAR (Bird of Dawn)

My Poem of the month (November): Reimagined Garden

My Poem of the month (December): The Emerging of a New Consciousness and Hopefulness 

'Be in love with life  and the living and the world will be a better place.'- Kamran Mofid

Photo: Kamran Mofid, our garden, Coventry, June 2020 

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